Much Introspection 

I find myself wondering if my feelings of hopelessness are valid. Is it alright for me to be afraid that my life can never be lived for myself? When I think in one direction or the other, I just want to rip my own heart out to stop it from beating. I want to ask it why it continues to beat. Is it not tired? On that thought I see something: If my heart sees fit to continue, then maybe it can tutor my mind on the whys of pressing on. It is said that with the mind, one can rule the body. What if the heart has greater control than the mind? With my mind I’ve permitted my body to stop, I’ve tried to destroy any hope of a better life, and I’ve tried to err solely on the side of hate. In spite of it all my heart still beats. I’ve not been able to rid myself of hope. I’ve certainly been tempered, but I’m not all lost. I’ve never felt at home in hate, and hating the world has only made me hate myself for being so pompous. Could my heart possibly have the answers that have alluded my mind? Can my introspection come from my heart?


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